7
by materialgirl079
Summary: In an futuristic alternate universe in which Harry and the gang have teamed up after loosing their memories, Harry and his 'sister' Ginny are cornered one night by Maye Death, a notorious killer in the Outpost. They eventually join her and her gang, but Lee, a silent, haughty and mistrustful teen, has secrets. And Harry is determined to figure her out. AU, rated T, dystopia, death.


**7 - A Harry Potter Fanfiction**

* * *

 **Prologue – Born Today of an Iron Womb**

 _Who am I?_

Pain. Blood. Sweat pouring down his face. Long, messy hair in his eyes. Long bony fingers clenched into fists. A male scream.

 _Seven._

Floating in humid darkness. A moment of relief, then it starts again. Screams, shrieking and rasping, bouncing around him. Only one part of him knows that they are his.

 _To be punished._

 _Box._

 _Pain._

 _Pain._

 _Pain._

 _Seven. Seven. Seven._

As he slips into darkness, Seven knows that he is born anew today, born of an Iron Womb.

* * *

 **Chapter 1 - Harry**

As I turn the corner, my sister at my side, a shiver runs down my spine. I know, from the second I enter the alley, that I am being watched. My shoes slap in the mud, and every sound I make suddenly seems too loud. I stop. My sister stops beside me.

"Brother…" she breathes, and a puff of silver vapour pours from her nostrils with every quick breath she takes, sparkling in a shaft of moonlight that falls like silver cloth over us. "There's somebody here."

She has barely finished her sentence when she slumps against me, her cold, tiny body falling into mine. No matter how light she is, the blow still winds me, and I fumble madly for a second to put my hands under her arms, hysteria and paranoia spreading rapidly through my nervous system as I steady her against me. I have barely righted myself when the knife comes to my throat from behind, and I freeze.

All I can hear is my heart thumping, all I can feel is the cold steel on my neck. The knives stowed in my boots are too far away to reach for now, I know. I would be dead before I knew what was happening if I attempted to reach for them. The person that holds my life in their hands, standing right behind me, speaks.

"Who are you?" they ask, and their voice is raspy with contained fury. Female. After I don't answer, the knife presses harder, pain sparking there. I gurgle softly, and blood bubbles at the blade. "I said," she says, and her voice is deadly calm, "who are you? One of Donavan's men, I'd bet." At this point, her voice turns sour, bitter. I know, immediately, that whoever Donavan is, she hates him. I'm brought from my thoughts when the knife presses harder against my neck. Pain in itself isn't new to me, but I am not immune to it, nor will I ever be, so a tiny, pitiful-sounding choked noise escapes my lips. "This is Maye Death territory!"

Suddenly, my instincts flare up, and I know that I have barely a second before she takes my life with her sharp blade. Her body tenses, and the tension in the alley rises, my senses screaming at me to run. Instead, I let out a shaky breath, and more pearly mist rises from my lips. I know that I can't dissuade her from what she plans to do unless I have a valid reason, and luckily, I do.

"Please…" I gasp, and my voice sounds so weak that disgust in my situation threatens to boil over, but I quash it quickly. "My sister… She can play cards… Very well…" The pressure doesn't ease, but I can tell that she's interested. "She can get you money, gambling at the Three Sons, by tomorrow, just… Please!" My voice is slightly hysteric now. **I** ** _can't_** **let her die**. Not now.

The knife suddenly presses in harder, choking me, and for one heart stopping moment, I am sure that she will kill me, right here. I close my eyes, waiting for the peak of the pain, but it never comes. The pressure eases, but I have barely had time to feel relief when a vice-like hand closes around my right shoulder, spinning me to face the stranger. She towers over me, but that is hardly and achievement. I'm tiny, even for a fifteen-year old boy. I can just see her mouth, as she is shrouded by shadow, and she is smirking. Strange, curved scars run from her lips, to her chin, and out of sight. I can just make out her eyes in the dark, and they are filled with a feral hunger, how I would imagine the eyes of a velociraptor. Filled with ravenous, animal intelligence and prehistoric, Neanderthal instinct.

 _You're going to die, Harry. Just embrace it._

"Bring the money here tomorrow." she says, and her calm voice contrasts with the hunger in her eyes. I shiver, and pull my sister closer to me with my left hand. "Remember," she whispers, leaning so close that her breath tickles my ear, "Maye Death doesn't like disloyalty, and you'd best find your allegiances soon." She leans even closer.

"She will find you."

Before I know what has happened, she has pulled away and disappeared into the shadows. She may have been a figment of my imagination, but I know that she wasn't. I peer into the darkness, and I know that her eyes have met mine in the dark. Hysteria creeps across my thoughts, and I stifle a cry as I feel blood trickle down my neck. The corners of my vision blur.

 _She is watching me._

This is the thought racing through my brain as I scoop up my sister, as I wipe the blood from my neck, and as I stumble unsteadily on my feet. She watches my every move with hunger in her eyes, predatory, and I know that she can kill me, easily. With my sister in my arms, just before leaving, I peer one last time into the dark. A raven caws somewhere far away, and something at the end of the alleyway shifts. My pupils dilate, and my brow sets as I hold my sister closer, staring with animal eyes into the black. It shifts again. My jaw clenches as I stumble around the corner and out of sight, traipsing down the street. I make it five blocks, paranoia rising. I see Maye Death at every turn. Eventually, I collapse into an empty doorway, clutching my sister close. Her hair tickles my face.

A raven caws again, far away.

Maye Death watches me with slits for eyes long into the night.

* * *

 **Chapter 2 - Lee**

I stumble into the hideout, rubbing my eyes tiredly, long after midnight. There was no activity after the boy left, and my instincts tell me that our territory will be silent until the sun rises tomorrow. My shift is over. A Sentry came to the entrance of our alley just after eleven, smelling the blood on my blade. Luckily, it could see no physical wound on me. Self-harm is a violation of the 4th law.

Anne is the only one awake, and there are dark circles under her brown eyes. A few inches shorter than me, she stands at a good height, and could be considered pretty, with her round face and curly black hair. Her Mark, a number three, is hidden by her thick fringe, and she, unlike me, shows no sign of her erasure. It was three years ago for her, while for me, it was one. My mark, a ten, isn't hidden by hair. It burns, bright scarlet, on my pale forehead, no longer puckered and raised, instead flat and smooth with age.

"Hey, Lee." says Anne. "Any activity?" Anne's hunched over an old propaganda poster that's spread out over the table in the middle of the old warehouse, and I can just make out a picture of a Sentry in the dim light. She wears a pair of worn jeans and a loose, red shirt. Both are worn and used. I wear black cargo pants and a black sweatshirt. Again, they are stolen and used.

"One trespasser." I say. Anne looks up, interested. "He didn't know his way around, though."

"You use the old 'Maye Death' on him?" she asks, raising a black eyebrow. Her mark shifts.

"Yep." I respond, popping the 'P'. "Thought that he was one of Donavan's. Scared him shitless."

"Marked?" Anne asks.

"Eight and Seven." I respond, trying to sound casual and failing miserably. "Only a few days old, by the look of it."

"Eight?! Seven?!" Anne asks, her eyes wide. " _A few days?!_ Holy shit! No wonder you scared him!"

"Well!" I say in defence. "It's not like I knew that he'd been in the box _two bloody times!_ " My line of defence comes out more harshly than I wanted it to, but Anne is unperturbed. She's used to my temper by now.

"He was alone?"

"No" I respond. "Little girl with him." I know what Anne's about to ask, so I respond for her. "Two. She had a two."

Anne's brow furrows, her mind working furiously.

"Managed to get some money out of him." I say, breaking the silence. "Said that I would let them go if he and the girly brought money back tomorrow. Apparently the girl can play cards, can gamble." Anne turns deep brown eyes on me, interested. "At the Three Sons." I add, and her eyes widen again.

"You know." she says, and her voice is stern. "You know, they won't survive there."

"Anne, I've got it covered." I say in a voice that sound too exhausted to be mine as I flop, face down on the couch, then raise my head. "Don's working shift tomorrow. I'll tell him what's happening; he'll break up the fights."

Anne looks slightly appeased – she's always had a weakness for kids – before her brow furrows again. "Doesn't he always?" she asks. I give her a dark grin, and she shivers slightly. Even she's not immune to my Maye Death side.

"We had a Sentry after that." I say, and my voice turns cold. I hate the bloody things, our whole group knows. The police of our world, they were put in place centuries ago, and if they catch anyone committing one of the Ten Sins, it's straight to the box. No time for explanations. No misunderstandings. Their robot minds haven't been given that type of programming.

Sensing the oncoming rant, Anne makes a hasty escape. "Jess'll be back soon," she says, "And she'll be grumpy."

With that ominous line, Anne straightens up, rolls up the propaganda poster she was studying, and walks into the back.

Once she's gone, I'm left staring despairingly around the small room. Over the past year, Anne, Rhia, Jess and I have somehow made this place home. The group started with Al and Rhia, over three years ago. They teamed up, after both suffering erasure, and moved from place to place around the outpost, Al selling herbs and Rhia stealing. Jess joined them a year after that, finding old pieces of scrap metal and wire and creating deadly weapons, both to sell and to use. The final member of the group, me, joined a year ago, protecting our territory with my 'Maye Death' persona and stealing with Rhia. We work like a finely oiled machine.

We've never kept secrets from each other before now.

 _But you, Lee, are keeping enough secrets to sink a ship._

 _Is that a good thing?_

I glance around the room, taking in the propaganda posters covering the walls and the old couches dotted around the room. Across from me, a huge, mural-like poster covers the wall, depicting the Ten Sins in blood-red writing. 1 – Assault. 2 – Thievery. 3 – Gambling. 4 – Self-Harm and adultery. 5 – Permanent Body adornment. 6 – Occupation as slaver or slavee; willing or unwilling. 7 – Attempt to uncover past after erasure. 8 – Murder. 9 – Working in an illegal gang. 10 – Conspiracy and rebellion against the regime. The rules are simple. Commit a sin, you lose your memories in The Box, coming out paranoid and jumpy, a number etched into the skin on your forehead. Three strikes, and you're out. You die. If you get any letter from 1 – 9, you remember your name, age, birthday and religion. You get a ten, and you lose everything.

 _Sort of like you did, huh Lee?_

I feel my eyelids drooping, and I know that I can't stay awake much longer. I roll onto my back, and a gurgle of pain forces it from my throat as the pain in my injured ankle peaks. _Just five minutes_ is the last thought in my head before is slip into sweet oblivion. A night on shift is tiring, especially with your leg in ribbons.

* * *

 **Chapter 3 - Jess**

Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

As I trudge down the main road that leads to our makeshift home, wallowing in self-pity at the evening I've had, my hand reaches up towards my forehead absentmindedly, rubbing the mark in the centre of my forehead. 8. Even when hidden by hair, the mark of murder in my past is deadly.

I relax slightly as I turn into our street. Even with the numerous weapons sheathed at my limbs, I still feel weak and unprotected outside this familiar street. I stick to the shadows as I make my way towards our alley, the most protected of Maye Death territory, and when I reach it, I turn in silently. There's no sign of Lee, so I know that it's most likely late. She's not the type to slack off.

I enter the warehouse silently, and I can see Lee sprawled out on a plum-coloured couch in a corner. She wears all black. Her face is filled with fine lines of pain and stress, and circles the colour of aubergines splash under her closed eyes. Her face is paler that usual, and she's covered in a thin sheen of sweat. Her crimson hair frames her hard-set, square face, and her breath is quick and shallow. I frown, walking over to the couch, and press my hand to her forehead. She has a fever.

"Lee," I say. "Lee, come on. You have to wake up." She doesn't respond, which is far from normal for her. I become more panicked the more I have to shake her. Eventually, though, to my relief, she squints, opens her eyes, and bats my hand away weakly. Her pupils dilate, then contract, then dilate again. She groans softly. "Lee?" I say, insanely worried now. She's the youngest in the group (or so we think), and I've always been protective of her. "Lee, what happened? You're burning up! What-"

But Lee cuts my off by narrowing her eyes in annoyance and sitting up abruptly. She glares at me, but she looks like she's having problems focusing.

"I'm _fine,_ Jess!" she snaps, running her hands through her hair. They're shaking badly. "What's your problem?"

"I'm _trying_ to _help you!_ " I snap back, rising to the bait. "Just tell me what's wrong!"

"Nothing's wrong." She says gruffly, standing up and swaying on the spot. I resist the urge to steady the younger girl. "Just back off!"

With that, she makes her way unsteadily to the door. "I'm going out." She says shortly. The sweat still glistens on her forehead, and she's limping badly. She's been out of it for weeks, but never as badly of this. She locks eyes with me for a second, then turns, pulls up the hood of her sweatshirt and limps out of the door.

I'm left, alone, standing in the middle of the room. Light footsteps sound behind me, and I don't even have to look behind me to know who it is.

"I'm worried about her." Rhia says, placing a hand on my arm. I glance down at her petite, blonde form. She wears a tight, light blue t-shirt, and a denim skirt. Neither fit her, so she is in line for my clothes when I grow out of them. I wear tan slacks and a plum-coloured button-up. Huge on me.

"Me too." I say quietly, putting a friendly arm around her. She looks up at me, and the scarlet nine etched into her skin burns itself into my irises. _She doesn't deserve this._ I ruffle her hair, and the peaceful moment breaks. "We're gonna be just fine." I say, because I know that's what she wants to hear. She nods, but I know that she doesn't believe me.

I don't think that _I_ believe me.

"She was talking to Anne earlier." Says Rhia, and I look at her. "Jess… I think we might get more people in the group soon."

I try not to let my shock show on my face with moderate success.

"What will we do?" she asks, and I rack my brains for an answer. Not finding one, I decide to be cryptic.

"I guess we're gonna need a bigger boat." I say, and only part of me appreciates the irony of the sentence.

* * *

 **AN**

 **Ok, its spot da reference time!**

 **Hope ya like this AU.**

 **M x**


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